


how ryan really joined the fake ah crew

by catchafallingstarfish (spaceboy_niko)



Series: niko's FAHC ramblings [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Fake AH Crew, Hook-Up, M/M, gavin and ryan scar geoff a little but don't worry geoff is fine, look it's gay and badly written what more could you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 16:50:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11317617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceboy_niko/pseuds/catchafallingstarfish
Summary: Geoff has a fucking brilliant idea. Geoff also can't find Gavin. Gavin is perfectly fine.





	1. geoff would be a better crime boss if his crew was actually present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff can't find Gavin. Geoff also wishes a little that he didn't find Gavin.

Geoff thought that his latest plan was a fucking brilliant idea, and announced this fact to the base at large.

It would’ve gone down much better, he muses over his whiskey, if anyone had actually been present.

He could call them, but he’s been sitting here staring off into space while this plan started coming together three hours ago and he needs to get out of the apartment.

Plus, they’re all predictable bastards. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.

* * *

 

Michael is unsurprisingly easy to find - Geoff just follows the sounds of cursing and explosions down to their weapons store, where he’s sitting on the floor in a jumbled pile of red and black wire and something that could be either gunpowder or something gotten through illicit means. Geoff isn’t quite sure which.

Michael nods as Geoff relays the plan. “Cool.” And continues working. “So…you’re in?” “Yeah, sure. I’ll get back to it, then.”

As Geoff ascends, he’s pretty certain that it wasn’t gunpowder.

* * *

 

Jack’s back in the main base by the time Geoff’s made the long walk up, so he tells her of the plan as well. She’s more supportive than Michael, hinting at little changes that could possibly be made that Geoff takes a mental note of, because Jack’s insight is better than his own most of the time.

Which just leaves Gavin.

* * *

 

Geoff trawls the city’s bars looking for Gavin until he ends up in an establishment slightly on the seedy side that the Crew makes a point of frequenting not-so-frequently. It’s tacky, with faux leather on the barstools and purple neon casting odd light that should be glinting off - _there_.

Gavin’s golden shades are perched on his hair, and he has, in typical Gavin fashion, drawn in a man who looks like he could kill him. Probably slid up with the sideways glance that Geoff has caught him practising.

It’s worked, by the looks of things.

Gavin’s thin, purple-clad frame is seated on the lap of the stranger who looks like a bouncer, and is mouthing his way down and biting a dark hickey into Gavin’s neck. From what Geoff can see - and that’s most of it - Gavin’s arse is pressed flush against the stranger’s crotch, rocking slightly with the movements of the couple.

Geoff’s going to have to have a serious dad talk with Gavin.

Sighing, he weaves his way through the throng of people and Gavin catches his eye and waves.

“Geoff! Glad to see you! What are you doing - ah! - out on this fine Thursday evening?” His sentence trails off in a moan, but Gavin’s cheeky grin is still in place as he reaches back to card a hand through the stranger’s long hair. The guy groans against Gavin’s neck, and bucks up a bit, shaking the blown-pupil eye contact Gavin’s trying to maintain with Geoff.

Pointedly avoiding looking at Gavin’s neck, or the hips he’s started to grind back against the stranger to the beat of the shitty EDM playing, Geoff attempts to maintain a flat tone. “Eh, not much. I had an idea that I was going to tell you about, but it looks like you’re sorta busy right now. Gavin, what did I tell you about hooking up with strangers who could kill you?” He adds in the last sentence as a joke, but it’s sort of forced and also sort of a genuine reprimand.

Gavin laughs, light and breathy. “Geoff, darling, do you think I just fuck people without knowing if they want me dead? I’m better at this than that, love!” He must have moved his hips again - Geoff’s not looking - because both of them moan, curse slightly, and the stranger finally detaches himself from Gavin’s neck and makes eye contact.

Geoff gulps.

There’s a few smears of face paint around the man’s eyes, and his leather jacket is pockmarked with shrapnel from bullets and asphalt.

“Evening, Ramsey,” the man says coolly, like he hasn’t just been making out with a golden British twink.

Geoff hoists Gavin up by his collar. “Gavin, you realise that the man that you almost fucked is the Vagabond? You know, the Mad Mercenary?!” He shakes Gavin a little as if to hit his point home.

Gavin rubs his neck and rolls his eyes at Geoff. “I’m smarter than I look, Geoff. Of course I bloody knew! Besides, _Ryan_ ,” - Geoff rolls his eyes, and Gavin ignores him - “wouldn’t kill me even if I didn’t know. The entire fucking Los Santos underworld knows who I am, Geoff, and they know–“

“–they’ll have hell to pay if they so much as look at you wrong,” Geoff finishes with a growl.

“Ramsey, he’s already drummed this into me. I’m frankly quite terrified of your ability to pull strings around here, so it really wouldn’t be in my best interests to _do_ anything to him.” The Vagabond - Ryan - has a low, calm, so-un-menacing-it’s-almost-menacing tone. “Against his will, that is,” he adds on as an afterthought.

Geoff counts to five under his breath. “Fuck it,” he decides. “Gavin, I’ll tell you the plan when you next rock up to base, and bring your homicidal maniac boyfriend with you tomorrow morning.”

Gavin laughs again. “Which one?”

Geoff turns and walks back through the crowd. When he turns back, just to make sure everything’s alright, he sees Gavin turned around on Ryan’s lap, lips locked and hands wandering downwards and no, Geoff does not need to see that, nor do the poor innocent bar-goers.

He quickly leaves after that, and when Gavin arrives on the back of Ryan’s bike the next morning, he’s in the same now-wrinkled clothes from the night before with a trail of bruises running down past his shirt collar. Geoff raises an eyebrow, and Gavin walks over - limps a little, Geoff notices - and socks him in the arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on tumblr (spaceboy-niko.tumblr.com)


	2. gavin's not complaining, although geoff is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin has a great night. Fuck what Geoff thinks.

Gavin was bored. Again. Geoff had promised elaborate plans for a heist where they’d be able to cover their hands with the black of dirty money, but hadn’t followed through with his promise as of yet.

Fuck it, he decided as he stood up and walked into his room. Tonight was a Gavin night. And a Gavin night meant Ramsey’s Golden Boy prettying himself up for _the eyes of all and the hands of a few_ , as Michael had quipped once as he watched Gavin sashay out one night and turn the infamous Look in his direction. Dressed up in the loose purple shirt that might not have been his and the tight black pants that could only definitely be his, he was a force to be reckoned with.

Sliding on a heavy ring that he knew clinked nicely against a whiskey glass, he turned on the heels of his well-shone shoes, tugging on his collar just in case as he closed the door to the apartment behind him. The shadier side of town called to him as he rang a taxi and slid carefully into the backseat.

 

* * *

 

The eyes of the barman burned down Gavin’s body as he ordered his drink - nothing too weak so that people wouldn’t think he couldn’t hold his own, but not too strong that it’d make him easy. And something with tequila in it, because tequila was just _fun_. Tequila sunrises worked well, and the barman knew him well enough to serve his with a touch more alcohol than recommended.

He could feel the gazes of the people seated in the club - some quick glances that were interrupted by their own decency or their company, some lingering looks and some just outright staring over the rims of their glasses. Gavin bathed in it, shifting so the dim light highlighted all the right places. This was, he decided, one of the better Gavin nights.

And then the stranger walked in and sat down next to him. Gavin felt more than saw all the gazes snap to the barstool next to him that had just ordered, in a low, dangerous tone, a – _what_?

The man stuffing something into a pocket of his scarred leather jacket was now coolly sipping on a Diet Coke. With a straw. And a paper umbrella.

Gavin gawked.

“Oh, and another drink for you?” Gavin shook his head a little to see the man looking at him and the ice rattling in his glass questioningly.

“Wh– I– alright.” Gavin regains his composure at the last minute, and took a sip. The alcohol didn’t burn as much now that he’d had a couple of drinks, and he placed his glass down on the slightly sticky bar and turned to the man with the Look.

He was really in the swing of things now.

“So,” Gavin said lightly, channeling the tequila into his voice. “Why on earth did you buy this British kid another drink? I’m not much to look at, you know.” He always pulls that line, because he knows that he’s easy on the eyes.

The man chuckles. “But you’re something to look at. You’re Ramsey’s boy, aren’t you?”

Bingo. Gavin hums his confirmation. “The very same. You’re a dead man if you even look at me wrong. And who might you be? You look…dangerous.” Gavin’s voice drops as he changes the subject back to the stranger, low with excitement and what he hopes is a hint of something else. It’s always a bit hard to perfect this with a couple of drinks’ worth of tequila in your head.

The man reaches into his jacket, and for a second, Gavin flinches back towards his front pocket where his pistol sits, delicate cold steel against his leg, but the man only pulls out a battle-worn mask. He passes it to Gavin, who unfolds it and feels the bile rise in his throat when he sees the markings on its face.

“Holy shit! You’re the bloody Vagabond!” Gavin squawks, and the man looks genuinely worried, shushing Gavin with a few agitated hand movements.

“Yeah, I am ‘the bloody Vagabond’,” and he mimics Gavin’s accent, “and I’d honestly really prefer it if you didn’t spread that around - it doesn’t really do wonders for, uh, socialising. My name’s actually Ryan, if that helps.” He trails off - nervously, Gavin would say - and wipes a stray smear of face paint from his left eye.

It’s at this point that Gavin finds himself doing something he never does - he actually feels a bit sorry for the guy. He leans over and wraps an arm around the Vagabond - _Ryan_ , the tequila telling him to ignore any possible boundaries and shift a little closer.

“I never thought that the most dangerous man in Los Santos was such a looker,” Gavin purrs, and Ryan seems to relax into him. Gavin decides that this is a good time to actually get this moving, and leans in to slide a kiss up from Ryan’s slightly scruffy jaw to his mouth and a hand into the ponytail that’s been falling out since he arrived.

And then something clicks in Ryan that seems to tell him it’s all okay, and he’s kissing Gavin back fiercely, all tongue and teeth, and all Gavin can think is _oh bloody fuck, he’s going to be the death of me_ and he’s lightheaded from lack of oxygen and blood rushing to the hot flush covering his face and neck, and oh god he’s just popped a stiffy against Ryan’s leg, he’s sure of it.

Gavin pulls away with a gasp and rakes a hand through his now-severely-mussed hair. “Christ, Ryan.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything to that, just scoops Gavin from where he’s teetering on his barstool and sits Gavin on his lap. Ryan’s breath ghosts down Gavin’s neck, and he shivers, and bites back a moan when Ryan whispers in his ear, “I was told that the Golden Boy was a bit of a slut.”

Gavin manages a breathy laugh. “Only for the right people, love. Why don’t you get onto convincing me that you’re not a tosser like the rest of ‘em?”

Gavin can feel the heat of Ryan’s mouth moving down towards his pulse point. Ryan bites gently, tentatively at first, but tugs at the skin with his teeth when Gavin sighs and tilts his head so Ryan can suck and bite dark bruises along his throat. Gavin shifts his weight and groans when he notices that _oh god he’s hard fuck yes_ and the friction between the two of them is simply gorgeous, the hard shape of Ryan through his jeans brushing underneath him and god, Gavin’s going to be so mad if this doesn’t go anywhere.

Gavin slides a hand back into Ryan’s hair and it’s at this moment that Geoff walks into the bar, looking slightly frazzled.

He feels Ryan smirk against his skin as he inhales and waves.

“Geoff! Glad to see you! What are you doing out on this fine Thursday evening?” Ryan bites him a little harder and his breath hitches mid-sentence, the words trailing off into a moan - he’s overplaying it just to make Geoff uncomfortable, and it’s already working. Ryan seems to pick up on this and thrusts up a little with a groan that resonates through Gavin’s skin. Geoff continues to stare fixedly at a point slightly above Gavin’s head.

“Eh, not much. I had an idea that I was going to tell you about, but it looks like you’re sorta busy right now. Gavin, what did I tell you about hooking up with strangers who could kill you?” Geoff chuckles a little but it’s stilted and awkward.

God, it’s hilarious to see Geoff squirm like this. Gavin rolls his hips down to Ryan’s in a slow, easy rhythm. “Geoff, darling, do you think I just fuck people without knowing if they want me dead? I’m better at this than that, love!” Ryan grins against his neck and bites down again, moaning with Gavin as the colour rises in Geoff’s face.

Ryan places one last kiss against Gavin’s throat and looks up at Geoff. “Evening, Ramsey,” he says in as casual a tone as if he were taking Geoff’s coffee order.

Geoff’s Adam’s apple visibly bobs in his throat.

Next thing Gavin knows, Geoff has him by the collar and is dragging him off Ryan’s lap. “Gavin, you realise that the man that you almost fucked is the Vagabond? You know, the Mad Mercenary?!” Gavin tries not to laugh at the pained squeak that rises in Geoff’s voice. He rubs his neck, fingers dancing over the mark Ryan’s left him, and rolls his eyes like a dramatic teenager.

“I’m smarter than I look, Geoff. Of course I bloody knew! Besides, Ryan wouldn’t kill me even if I didn’t know. The entire fucking Los Santos underworld knows who I am, Geoff, and they know–“

“–they’ll have hell to pay if they so much as look at you wrong.” Geoff’s gone into protective dad mode again. Gavin can’t really blame him, though he does wish that Geoff was more accustomed to his lifestyle by now.

Ryan swivels slightly on the barstool and tries to placate Geoff, though the corners of his mouth still quirk upwards with every word. Geoff takes a few deep breaths and decides that he can talk to Gavin tomorrow. Gavin waves him off enthusiastically and Ryan laughs next to him. It’s a good sound, Gavin decides, and he wants to hear more of it.

As soon as Geoff’s back is turned, Ryan’s pulling Gavin back into his lap and crushing their lips back together, laughing against Gavin’s mouth. “I think we scared him a bit.”

Gavin traces a hand downward - where Ryan is still hard underneath him, despite the ordeal with Geoff, thank God - and palms Ryan through his jeans. He can feel Ryan’s pleased moan and shudder underneath him. “Nah, Geoff’s seen worse than that. Now, I don’t know about you, but I think that was more than sufficient encouragement for me to have you fuck me senseless. Yours or mine?”

“Mine. ’S’closer.” Ryan gently, almost wistfully removes Gavin from his lap and leads him out of the bar to a bike that’s probably breaking a thousand customisation laws into pieces. Not that Gavin cares. He tucks his sunglasses into a shirt pocket, because those cost Geoff way too much money for them to blow off his head and be crushed by a semi.

The bike practically purrs under Gavin as Ryan swings on behind him and revs the engine, kicking it into life and shattering any Los Santos speed limits that may have existed before. Gavin laughs and it’s whipped away in the night air.

 

* * *

 

Ryan’s flat is typical of bachelors that Gavin’s paid visits to, but the subtle difference is there’s a beaten-up, bloodstained duffel jacket hanging on the hook by the door and an assortment of weapons thrown haphazardly underneath it. Gavin doesn’t get a good look, because the moment Ryan’s pulled Gavin inside, he shoves the door shut and slams Gavin’s back to the wood, attacking his neck with more enthusiasm than in the bar and cupping Gavin’s arse, and it’s only when Gavin wraps his legs around Ryan’s hips that he realises that Ryan’s picked him up and is carrying him through the apartment, still kissing and biting a trail down Gavin’s neck.

Gavin thinks all the blood has rushed from his head to his prick, because the next thing he registers is Ryan flattening him against the bed and working down the line of buttons on his shirt, fingers sliding the fabric across his chest and off his shoulders. Ryan mouths at his collarbone and brushes his fingertips over his nipples and Gavin arches off the bed, gasping.

He can feel Ryan’s bloody smirk against his skin, and Ryan begins to bite bruises down along Gavin’s collarbone, mouthing his way to Gavin’s hardening nipples and biting at one gently, rolling the other in his fingertips and this time Gavin moans openly. He’s never been quiet in bed, or out of bed for that matter, but Ryan has a way of finding Gavin’s weak spots and playing him like a piano, pulling the noises out of him like a magician’s scarf trick. The man hasn’t even gotten him out of his pants yet and he thinks he’s going to come in them like a horny teenager.

Ryan seems to think he’s tortured Gavin enough, and Gavin sighs as Ryan’s mouth makes its way down Gavin’s torso, sucking a mark into his hip as he undoes the fly of Gavin’s trousers.

“While I do agree that these pants make your legs look amazing, I’m never going to get you out of them if you’re a boneless lump on my bed. A little help?” Ryan’s looking up at him, one eyebrow raised questioningly, and Gavin obligingly lifts his hips so Ryan can inch his trousers and boxers down his legs, gently sliding the waistband over Gavin’s dick. The light brush of Ryan’s fingers sends a shiver down Gavin’s spine, but it’s gone all too soon as Ryan manages to get Gavin completely naked and begins work on his own zipper.

And then Ryan’s back on top of Gavin, and the kiss is all teeth and tongue as Gavin’s hands dance downwards and loosely grip Ryan’s cock. It’s warm and thick in his hand, and he gives a few experimental strokes, Ryan’s hips bucking into the circle of his fist. Ryan’s hand traces the dips and curves of Gavin’s hips and mimics the grip on his own dick, loosely sliding down Gavin’s shaft and cupping his balls in his calloused palm, fingertips hesitantly brushing over his perineum and catching on his rim and _fuck_ , Gavin might just explode if he keeps this up.

“God damn it, Ryan, where the hell do you keep lube? If you’re not going to do anything, then I may as well get myself off!” Ryan mock-sighs and leans over him to a drawer and pulls out a bottle, moving down between Gavin’s thighs.

A cool fingertip nudges at the muscle, and Gavin relaxes as it slides in. It’s an easy slide - it hasn’t been that long, really, if you don’t count his own hand - and soon Ryan’s pushing in another, spreading his fingers inside Gavin. Ryan’s gentle, as if he doesn’t want to break Gavin, and his careful ministrations coax little whimpers and gasps from Gavin as he slowly scissors his fingers, curling them around until Gavin jerks.

“Oh, _fuck_ , do that again,” Gavin breathes. Ryan obliges and the spark jolts Gavin’s whole body, toes curling and head falling back in a louder-than-expected moan.

The movement of Ryan’s fingers has Gavin tensing slightly in excitement, but he’s not expecting Ryan to take his fingers out and wipe them down on the bedspread. He grumbles at the loss and Ryan laughs, low with a dark undertone that Gavin wouldn’t mind hearing more of.

“It’d be no fun for either of us if I just sat and fingered you all night, would it?”

Gavin has to admit that that’s a fair point and is about to say so when Ryan sinks into him in one fluid roll of his hips. He practically screams, and Ryan grins, starting up a tantalisingly slow rhythm. Gavin can _feel_ every inch of Ryan inside him, every pull of Ryan’s cock against his hole as he pulls out almost all the way, every press of the head against his prostate when he slams back in. It’s brutally rough, and Gavin’s having a hard time processing the slowness of it all.

Gavin pulls Ryan down by the shoulders and says lowly, “If you don’t speed up and fuck me into the mattress until I can’t walk, then I swear to God I’m going to take over and show you how it’s done.”

“You’ll show me anyway, though, won’t you?” Ryan shoots back in a surprisingly cool tone.

“Just fuck me, Ryan,” Gavin hisses, and then he’s thrown back against the mattress and his leg is thrown over Ryan’s shoulder as his pace quickens. Gavin’s shouted curses intermingle with the slap of skin on skin and the thump of the headboard against the wall. Gavin bucks his hips to meet Ryan’s thrusts, and pants into his shoulder _oh god fuck yes Ryan harder dammit_ , and Ryan breathes back _so good so tight fuck you’re hot Gavin god yes_ and they’re a mess of limbs and sweat and movement and it’s everything Gavin could wish for and more.

Ryan’s hand brushes Gavin’s dick and that’s all it takes for Gavin to fall over the edge, his vision whiting out as he bites into Ryan’s shoulder to silence his scream, come streaking between them as he shakes through his orgasm. Ryan’s thrusts falter as Gavin tightens around him and then Gavin feels Ryan release inside him, messy and dirty and exactly the way he likes it.

They collapse back onto the mattress, and Ryan carefully pulls out, looking concerned at Gavin’s wince.

“I’m fine, love, really. I’ll just have to figure out how my legs work again.”

Ryan smiles a tired but radiant smile, and they watch the sun streak pink and orange over Los Santos as Ryan settles an arm over Gavin and Gavin falls asleep pressed to Ryan’s chest.

* * *

They arrive at Geoff’s penthouse the next day, Gavin in a sore mess of night-before clothes on Ryan’s bike, and Geoff raises an eyebrow when they walk in. Gavin winces as he walks over to Geoff, and, without a word, punches him in the arm. When he rejoins the rest of the gang, Michael fawns over his hickeys and tickles Gavin in the neck when he says that he couldn’t possibly show Michael all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm...really bad at this. sorry.
> 
> come find me on tumblr (spaceboy-niko.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr! (spaceboy-niko.tumblr.com)
> 
> i also have a writing blog! (catchafallingstarfish.tumblr.com)


End file.
